Ten Days That Shook the World, Chapter 4: The Fall of the Provisional Government

John Reed

Ten Days that Shook the World

Chapter IV

The Fall of the Provisional Government

WEDNESDAY, November 7th, I rose very late. The noon cannon
boomed from Peter-Paul as I went down the Nevsky. It was a raw,
chill day. In front of the State Bank some soldiers with fixed
bayonets were standing at the closed gates.

“What side do you belong to?” I asked. “The Government?”

“No more Government,” one answered with a grin,
“Slava Bogu! Glory to God!” That was all I
could get out of him&….

The street-cars were running on the Nevsky, men, women and small
boys hanging on every projection. Shops were open, and there
seemed even less uneasiness among the street crowds than there
had been the day before. A whole crop of new appeals against
insurrection had blossomed out on the walls during the
night—to the peasants, to the soldiers at the front, to
the workmen of Petrograd. One read:

FROM THE PETROGRAD MUNICIPAL DUMA:

The Municipal Duma informs the citizens that in the
extraordinary meeting of November 6th the Duma formed a Committee
of Public Safety, composed of members of the Central and Ward
Dumas, and representatives of the following revolutionary
democratic organizations: The Tsay-ee-kah, the
All-Russian Executive Committee of Peasant Deputies, the Army
organisations, the Tsentroflot, the Petrograd Soviet of
Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies (!), the Council of
Trade Unions, and others.

Members of the Committee of Public Safety will be on duty in the
building of the Municipal Duma. Telephones No. 15-40, 223-77,
138-36.

November 7th, 1917.

Though I didn’t realize it then, this was the Duma’s
declaration of war against the Bolsheviki.

I bought a copy of Rabotchi Put, the only newspaper
which seemed on sale, and a little later paid a soldier fifty
kopeks for a second-hand copy of Dien. The Bolshevik
paper, printed on large-sized sheets in the conquered office of
the Russkaya Volia, had huge headlines: “ALL
POWER—TO THE SOVIETS OF WORKERS, SOLDIERS AND PEASANTS!
PEACE! BREAD! LAND!” The leading article was signed
“Zinoviev,”—Lenin’s companion in
hiding. It began:

Every soldier, every worker, every real Socialist, every honest
democrat realises that there are only two alternatives to the
present situation.

Either—the power will remain in the hands of the
bourgeois-landlord crew, and this will mean every kind of
repression for the workers, soldiers and peasants, continuation
of the war, inevitable hunger and death&….

Or—the power will be transferred to the hands of the
revolutionary workers, soldiers and peasants; and in that case
it will mean a complete abolition of landlord tyranny, immediate
check of the capitalists, immediate proposal of a just
peace. Then the land is assured to the peasants, then control of
industry is assured to the workers, then bread is assured to the
hungry, then the end of this nonsensical war!&…

Dien contained fragmentary news of the agitated
night. Bolsheviki capture of the Telephone Exchange, the Baltic
station, the Telegraph Agency; the Peterhof yunkers
unable to reach Petrograd; the Cossacks undecided; arrest of
some of the Ministers; shooting of Chief of the City Militia
Meyer; arrests, counter-arrests, skirmishes between clashing
patrols of soldiers, yunkers and Red Guards. [1]

On the corner of the Morskaya I ran into Captain Gomberg,
Menshevik oboronetz, secretary of the Military Section
of his party. When I asked him if the insurrection had really
happened he shrugged his shoulders in a tired manner and
replied, “Tchort znayet! The devil knows! Well,
perhaps the Bolsheviki can seize the power, but they won’t
be able to hold it more than three days. They haven’t the
men to run a government. Perhaps it’s a good thing to let
them try—that will furnish them&….”

The Military Hotel at the corner of St. Isaac’s Square was
picketed by armed sailors. In the lobby were many of the smart
young officers, walking up and down or muttering together; the
sailors wouldn’t let them leave&….

Suddenly came the sharp crack of a rifle outside, followed by a
scattered burst of firing. I ran out. Something unusual was
going on around the Marinsky Palace, where the Council of the
Russian Republic met. Diagonally across the wide square was
drawn a line of soldiers, rifles ready, staring at the hotel
roof.

“Provacatzia! Shot at us!” snapped one, while another went running toward the door.

At the western corner of the Palace lay a big armoured car with
a red flag flying from it, newly lettered in red paint:
“S.R.S.D.” (Soviet Rabotchikh Soldatskikh
Deputatov); all the guns trained toward
St. Isaac’s. A barricade had been heaped up across the
mouth of Novaya Ulitza—boxes, barrels, an old bed-spring,
a wagon. A pile of lumber barred the end of the Moika
quay. Short logs from a neighbouring wood-pile were being built
up along the front of the building to form breastworks&….

“Is there going to be any fighting?” I asked.

“Soon, soon,” answered a soldier,
nervously. “Go away, comrade, you’ll get hurt. They
will come from that direction,” pointing toward the
Admiralty.

“Who will?”

“That I couldn’t tell you, brother,” he answered, and spat.

Before the door of the Palace was a crowd of soldiers and
sailors. A sailor was telling of the end of the Council of the
Russian Republic. “We walked in there,” he said,
“and filled all the doors with comrades. I went up to the
counter-revolutionist Kornilovitz who sat in the
president’s chair. No more Council,’ I
says. Run along home now!#”’

There was laughter. By waving assorted papers I managed to get
around to the door of the press gallery. There an enormous
smiling sailor stopped me, and when I showed my pass, just said,
“If you were Saint Michael himself, comrade, you
couldn’t pass here!” Through the glass of the door I
made out the distorted face and gesticulating arms of a French
correspondent, locked in&….

Around in front stood a little, grey-moustached man in the
uniform of a general, the centre of a knot of soldiers. He was
very red in the face.

“I am General Alexeyev,” he cried. “As your
superior officer and as a member of the Council of the Republic
I demand to be allowed to pass!” The guard scratched his
head, looking uneasily out of the corner of his eye; he beckoned
to an approaching officer, who grew very agitated when he saw
who it was and saluted before he realised what he was doing.

“Vashe Vuisokoprevoskhoditelstvo—your High
Excellency—” he stammered, in the manner of the old
ré#233;gime, “Access to the Palace is strictly
forbidden—I have no right—”

An automobile came by, and I saw Gotz sitting inside, laughing
apparently with great amusement. A few minutes later another,
with armed soldiers on the front seat, full of arrested members
of the Provisional Government. Peters, Lettish member of the
Military Revolutionary Committee, came hurrying across the
Square.

“I thought you bagged all those gentlemen last night,” said I, pointing to them.

“Oh,” he answered, with the expression of a
disappointed small boy. “The damn fools let most of them
go again before we made up our minds&….”

Down the Voskressensky Prospect a great mass of sailors were
drawn up, and behind them came marching soldiers, as far as the
eye could reach.

We went toward the Winter Palace by way of the
Admiralteisky. All the entrances to the Palace Square were
closed by sentries, and a cordon of troops stretched clear
across the western end, besieged by an uneasy throng of
citizens. Except for far-away soldiers who seemed to be carrying
wood out of the Palace courtyard and piling it in front of the
main gateway, everything was quiet.

We couldn’t make out whether the sentries were
pro-Government or pro-Soviet. Our papers from Smolny had no
effect, however, so we approached another part of the line with
an important air and showed our American passports, saying
“Official business!” and shouldered through. At the
door of the Palace the same old shveitzari, in their
brass-buttoned blue uniforms with the red-and-gold collars,
politely took our coats and hats, and we went up-stairs. In the
dark, gloomy corridor, stripped of its tapestries, a few old
attendants were lounging about, and in front of Kerensky’s
door a young officer paced up and down, gnawing his
moustache. We asked if we could interview the
Minister-president. He bowed and clicked his heels.

“No, I am sorry,” he replied in
French. “Alexander Feodorvitch is extremely occupied just
now&….” He looked at us for a moment. “In
fact, he is not here&….”

“Where is he?”

“He has gone to the Front.[2] And do you know, there wasn’t enough gasoline for his automobile. We had to send to the English Hospital and borrow some.”

“Are the Ministers here?”

“They are meeting in some room—I don’t know where.’

“Are the Bolsheviki coming?”

“Of course. Certainly, they are coming. I expect a
telephone call every minute to say that they are coming. But we
are ready. We have yunkers in the front of the
Palace. Through that door there.”

“Can we go in there?”

“No. Certainly not. It is not permitted.” Abruptly
he shook hands all around and walked away. We turned to the
forbidden door, set in a temporary partition dividing the hall
and locked on the outside. On the other side were voices, and
somebody laughing. Except for that the vast spaces of the old
Palace were silent as the grave. An old shveitzar ran
up. “No, barin, you must not go in there.”

“Why is the door locked?”

“To keep the soldiers in,” he answered. After a few
minutes he said something about having a glass of tea and went
back up the hall. We unlocked the door.

Just inside a couple of soldiers stood on guard, but they said
nothing. At the end of the corridor was a large, ornate room
with gilded cornices and enormous crystal lustres, and beyond it
several smaller ones, wainscoted with dark wood. On both sides
of the parquetted floor lay rows of dirty mattresses and
blankets, upon which occasional soldiers were stretched out;
everywhere was a litter of cigarette-butts, bits of bread,
cloth, and empty bottles with expensive French labels. More and
more soldiers, with the red shoulder-straps of the
yunker-schools, moved about in a stale atmosphere of
tobacco-smoke and unwashed humanity. One had a bottle of white
Burgundy, evidently filched from the cellars of the Palace. They
looked at us with astonishment as we marched past, through room
after room, until at last we came out into a series of great
state-salons, fronting their long and dirty windows on the
Square. The walls were covered with huge canvases in massive
gilt frames—historical battle-scenes&…. “12
October 1812” and “6 November 1812” and
“16/28 August 1813.” — One had a gash across
the upper right hand corner.

The place was all a huge barrack, and evidently had been for
weeks, from the look of the floor and walls. Machine guns were
mounted on window-sills, rifles stacked between the mattresses.

As we were looking at the pictures an alcoholic breath assailed
me from the region of my left ear, and a voice said in thick but
fluent French, “I see, by the way you admire the
paintings, that you are foreigners.” He was a short, puffy
man with a baldish head as he removed his cap.

“Americans? Enchanted. I am Stabs-Capitan Vladimir
Artzibashev, absolutely at your service.” It did not seem
to occur to him that there was anything unusual in four
strangers, one a woman, wandering through the defences of an
army awaiting attack. He began to complain of the state of
Russia.

“Not only these Bolsheviki,” he said, “but the
fine traditions of the Russian army are broken down. Look around
you. These are all students in the officers’ training
schools. But are they gentlemen? Kerensky opened the
officers’ schools to the ranks, to any soldier who could
pass an examination. Naturally there are many, many who are
contaminated by the Revolution&….”

Without consequence he changed the subject. “I am very
anxious to go away from Russia. I have made up my mind to join
the American army. Will you please go to your Consul and make
arrangements? I will give you my address.” In spite of our
protestations he wrote it on a piece of paper, and seemed to
feel better at once. I have it
still—“Oranien-baumskaya Shkola Praporshtchikov
2nd, Staraya Peterhof.”

“We had a review this morning early,” he went on, as
he guided us through the rooms and explained
everything. “The Women’s Battalion decided to remain
loyal to the Government.”

“Are the women soldiers in the Palace?”

“Yes, they are in the back rooms, where they won’t
be hurt if any trouble comes.” He sighed. “It is a
great responsibility,” said he.

For a while we stood at the window, looking down on the Square
before the Palace, where three companies of long-coated
yunkers were drawn up under arms, being harangued by a
tall, energetic-looking officer I recognised as Stankievitch,
chief Military Commissar of the Provisional Government. After a
few minutes two of the companies shouldered arms with a clash,
barked three sharp shouts, and went swinging off across the
Square, disappearing through the Red Arch into the quiet city.

“They are going to capture the Telephone Exchange,”
said some one. Three cadets stood by us, and we fell into
conversation. They said they had entered the schools from the
ranks, and gave their names—Robert Olev, Alexei Vasilienko
and Erni Sachs, an Esthonian. But now they didn’t want to
be officers any more, because officers were very unpopular. They
didn’t seem to know what to do, as a matter of fact, and
it was plain that they were not happy.

But soon they began to boast. “If the Bolsheviki come we
shall show them how to fight. They do not dare to fight, they
are cowards. But if we should be overpowered, well, every man
keeps one bullet for himself&….”

At this point there was a burst of rifle-fire not far off. Out
on the Square all the people began to run, falling flat on their
faces, and the izvoshtchiki, standing on the corners,
galloped in every direction. Inside all was uproar, soldiers
running here and there, grabbing up guns, rifle-belts and
shouting, “Here they come! Here they come!” —
But in a few minutes it quieted down again. The
izvoshtchiki came back, the people lying down stood
up. Through the Red Arch appeared the yunkers, marching
a little out of step, one of them supported by two comrades.

It was getting late when we left the Palace. The sentries in the
Square had all disappeared. The great semi-circle of Government
buildings seemed deserted. We went into the Hotel France for
dinner, and right in the middle of soup the waiter, very pale in
the face, came up and insisted that we move to the main
dining-room at the back of the house, because they were going to
put out the lights in the café#233;. “There will be
much shooting,” he said.

When we came out on the Morskaya again it was quite dark, except
for one flickering street-light on the corner of the
Nevsky. Under this stood a big armored automobile, with racing
engine and oil-smoke pouring out of it. A small boy had climbed
up the side of the thing and was looking down the barrel of a
machine gun. Soldiers and sailors stood around, evidently
waiting for something. We walked back up to the Red Arch, where
a knot of soldiers was gathered staring at the brightly-lighted
Winter Palace and talking in loud tones.

“No, comrades,” one was saying. “How can we
shoot at them? The Women’s Battalion is in
there—they will say we have fired on Russian women.”

As we reached the Nevsky again another armoured car came around
the corner, and a man poked his head out of the turret-top.

“Come on!” he yelled. “Let’s go on through and attack!”

The driver of the other car came over, and shouted so as to be
heard above the roaring engine. “The Committee says to
wait. They have got artillery behind the wood-piles in
there&….”

Here the street-cars had stopped running, few people passed, and
there were no lights; but a few blocks away we could see the
trams, the crowds, the lighted shop-windows and the electric
signs of the moving-picture shows—life going on as
usual. We had tickets to the Ballet at the Marinsky
Theatre—all theatres were open—but it was too
exciting out of doors&….

In the darkness we stumbled over lumber-piles barricading the
Police Bridge, and before the Stroganov Palace made out some
soldiers wheeling into position a three-inch field-gun. Men in
various uniforms were coming and going in an aimless way, and
doing a great deal of talking&….

Up the Nevsky the whole city seemed to be out promenading. On
every corner immense crowds were massed around a core of hot
discussion. Pickets of a dozen soldiers with fixed bayonets
lounged at the street-crossings, red-faced old men in rich fur
coats shook their fists at them, smartly-dressed women screamed
epithets; the soldiers argued feebly, with embarrassed
grins&…. Armoured cars went up and down the street, named
after the first Tsars—Oleg, Rurik, Svietoslav—and
daubed with huge red letters, “R. S. D. R. P.”
(Rossiskaya Partia)[1]. At the Mikhailovsky a man appeared with
an armful of newspapers, and was immediately stormed by frantic
people, offering a rouble, five roubles, ten roubles, tearing at
each other like animals. It was Rabotchi i Soldat,
announcing the victory of the Proletarian Revolution, the
liberation of the Bolsheviki still in prison, calling upon the
Army front and rear for support— a feverish little sheet
of four pages, running to enormous type, containing no
news&….

On the corner of the Sadovaya about two thousand citizens had gathered, staring up at the roof of a tall building, where a tiny red spark glowed and waned.

“See!” said a tall peasant, pointing to
it. “It is a provocator. Presently he will fire on the
people&….” Apparently no one thought of going to
investigate.

The massive facade of Smolny blazed with lights as we drove up,
and from every street converged upon it streams of hurrying
shapes dim in the gloom. Automobiles and motorcycles came and
went; an enormous elephant-coloured armoured automobile, with
two red flags flying from the turret, lumbered out with
screaming siren. It was cold, and at the outer gate the Red
Guards had built themselves a bon-fire. At the inner gate, too,
there was a blaze, by the light of which the sentries slowly
spelled out our passes and looked us up and down. The canvas
covers had been taken off the four rapid-fire guns on each side
of the doorway, and the ammunition-belts hung snakelike from
their breeches. A dun herd of armoured cars stood under the
trees in the court-yard, engines going. The long, bare,
dimly-illuminated halls roared with the thunder of feet,
calling, shouting&…. There was an atmosphere of
recklessness. A crowd came pouring down the staircase, workers
in black blouses and round black fur hats, many of them with
guns slung over their shoulders, soldiers in rough dirt-coloured
coats and grey fur shapki pinched flat, a leader or
so—Lunatcharsky, Kameniev—hurrying along in the
centre of a group all talking at once, with harassed anxious
faces, and bulging portfolios under their arms. The
extraordinary meeting of the Petrograd Soviet was over. I
stopped Kameniev—a quick moving little man, with a wide,
vivacious face set close to his shoulders. Without preface he
read in rapid French a copy of the resolution just passed:

The Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’
Deputies, saluting the victorious Revolution of the Petrograd
proletariat and garrison, particularly emphasises the unity,
organisation, discipline, and complete cooperation shown by the
masses in this rising; rarely has less blood been spilled, and
rarely has an insurrection succeeded so well.

The Soviet expresses its firm conviction that the Workers’
and Peasants’ Government which, as the government of the
Soviets, will be created by the Revolution, and which will
assure the industrial proletariat of the support of the entire
mass of poor peasants, will march firmly toward Socialism, the
only means by which the country can be spared the miseries and
unheard-of horrors of war.

The new Workers’ and Peasants’ Government will
propose immediately a just and democratic peace to all the
belligerent countries.

It will suppress immediately the great landed property, and
transfer the land to the peasants. It will establish
workmen’s control over production and distribution of
manufactured products, and will set up a general control over
the banks, which it will transform into a state monopoly.

The Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’
Deputies calls upon the workers and the peasants of Russia to
support with all their energy and all their devotion the
Proletarian Revolution. The Soviet expresses its conviction that
the city workers, allies of the poor peasants, will assure
complete revolutionary order, indispensable to the victory of
Socialism. The Soviet is convinced that the proletariat of the
countries of Western Europe will aid us in conducting the cause
of Socialism to a real and lasting victory.

“You consider it won then?”

He lifted his shoulders. “There is much to do. Horribly much. It is just beginning&….

On the landing I met Riazanov, vice-president of the Trade
Unions, looking black and biting his grey
beard. “It’s insane! Insane!” he
shouted. “The European working-class won’t move! All
Russia—” He waved his hand distractedly and ran
off. Riazanov and Kameniev had both opposed the insurrection,
and felt the lash of Lenin’s terrible tongue&….

It had been a momentous session. In the name of the Military
Revolutionary Committee Trotzky had declared that the
Provisional Government no longer existed.

“The characteristic of bourgeois governments,” he
said, “is to deceive the people. We, the Soviets of
Workers’, Soldiers’ and Peasants’ Deputies,
are going to try an experiment unique in history; we are going
to found a power which will have no other aim but to satisfy the
needs of the soldiers, workers, and peasants.”

Lenin had appeared, welcomed with a mighty ovation, prophesying
world-wide Social Revolution&…. And Zinoviev, crying,
“This day we have paid our debt to the international
proletariat, and struck a terrible blow at the war, a terrible
body-blow at all the imperialists and particularly at Wilhelm
the Executioner&….

Then Trotzky, that telegrams had been sent to the front
announcing the victorious insurrection, but no reply had
come. Troops were said to be marching against Petrograd—a
delegation must be sent to tell them the truth.

Cries, “You are anticipating the will of the All-Russian Congress of Soviets!”

Trotzky, coldly, “The will of the All-Russian Congress of
Soviets has been anticipated by the rising of the Petrograd
workers and soldiers!”

So we came into the great meeting-hall, pushing through the
clamorous mob at the door. In the rows of seats, under the white
chandeliers, packed immovably in the aisles and on the sides,
perched on every window-sill, and even the edge of the platform,
the representatives of the workers and soldiers of all Russia
waited in anxious silence or wild exultation the ringing of the
chairman’s bell. There was no heat in the hall but the
stifling heat of unwashed human bodies. A foul blue cloud of
cigarette smoke rose from the mass and hung in the thick
air. Occasionally some one in authority mounted the tribune and
asked the comrades not to smoke; then everybody, smokers and
all, took up the cry “Don’t smoke, comrades!”
and went on smoking. Petrovsky, Anarchist delegate from the
Obukhov factory, made a seat for me beside him. Unshaven and
filthy, he was reeling from three nights’ sleepless work
on the Military Revolutionary Committee.

On the platform sat the leaders of the old
Tsay-ee-kah—for the last time dominating the
turbulent Soviets, which they had ruled from the first days, and
which were now risen against them. It was the end of the first
period of the Russian revolution, which these men had attempted
to guide in careful ways&…. The three greatest of them
were not there: Kerensky, flying to the front through country
towns all doubtfully heaving up; Tcheidze, the old eagle, who
had contemptuously retired to his own Georgian mountains, there
to sicken with consumption; and the high-souled Tseretelli, also
mortally stricken, who, nevertheless, would return and pour out
his beautiful eloquence for a lost cause. Gotz sat there, Dan,
Lieber, Bogdanov, Broido, Fillipovsky,—white-faced,
hollow-eyed and indignant. Below them the second siezd
of the All-Russian Soviets boiled and swirled, and over their
heads the Military Revolutionary Committee functioned white-hot,
holding in its hands the threads of insurrection and striking
with a long arm&…. It was 10.40 P. M.

Dan, a mild-faced, baldish figure in a shapeless military
surgeon’s uniform, was ringing the bell. Silence fell
sharply, intense, broken by the scuffling and disputing of the
people at the door&….

“We have the power in our hands,” he began sadly,
stopped for a moment, and then went on in a low
voice. “Comrades! The Congress of Soviets in meeting in
such unusual circumstances and in such an extraordinary moment
that you will understand why the Tsay-ee-kah considers
it unnecessary to address you with a political speech. This will
become much clearer to you if you will recollect that I am a
member of the Tsay-ee-kah, and that at this very moment
our party comrades are in the Winter Palace under bombardment,
sacrificing themselves to execute the duty put on them by the
Tsay-ee-kah.” (Confused uproar.)

“I declare the first session of the Second Congress of
Soviets of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies
open!”

The election of the presidium took place amid stir and moving
about. Avanessov announced that by agreement of the Bolsheviki,
Left Socialist Revolutionaries and Mensheviki Internationalists,
it was decided to base the presidium upon
proportionality. Several Mensheviki leaped to their feet
protesting. A bearded soldier shouted at them, “Remember
what you did to us Bolsheviki when we were the
minority!” Result—14 Bolsheviki, 7 Socialist
Revolutionaries, 3 Mensheviki and 1 Internationalist
(Gorky’s group). Hendelmann, for the right and centre
Socialist Revolutionaries, said that they refused to take part
in the presidium; the same from Kintchuk, for the Mensheviki;
and from the Mensheviki Internationalists, that until the
verification of certain circumstances, they too could not enter
the presidium. Scattering applause and hoots. One voice,
“Renegades, you call yourselves Socialists!” A
representative of the Ukrainean delegates demanded, and
received, a place. Then the old Tsay-ee-kah stepped
down, and in their places appeared Trotzky, Kameniev,
Lunatcharsky, Madame Kollentai, Nogin&…. The hall rose,
thundering. How far they had soared, these Bolsheviki, from a
despised and hunted sect less than four months ago, to this
supreme place, the helm of great Russia in full tide of
insurrection!

The order of the day, said Kameniev, was first, Organisation of
Power; second, War and Peace; and third, the Constituent
Assembly. Lozovsky, rising, announced that upon agreement of the
bureau of all factions, it was proposed to hear and discuss the
report of the Petrograd Soviet, then to give the floor to
members of the Tsay-ee-kah and the different parties,
and finally to pass to the order of the day.

But suddenly a new sound made itself heard, deeper than the
tumult of the crowd, persistent, disquieting,—the dull
shock of guns. People looked anxiously toward the clouded
windows, and a sort of fever came over them. Martov, demanding
the floor, croaked hoarsely, “The civil war is beginning,
comrades! The first question must be a peaceful settlement of
the crisis. On principle and from a political standpoint we must
urgently discuss a means of averting civil war. Our brothers are
being shot down in the streets! At this moment, when before the
opening of the Congress of Soviets the question of Power is
being settled by means of a military plot organised by one of
the revolutionary parties—” for a moment he could
not make himself heard above the noise, “All of the
revolutionary parties must face the fact! The first
vopros (question) before the Congress is the question
of Power, and this question is already being settled by force of
arms in the streets!— We must create a power which will be
recognised by the whole democracy. If the Congress wishes to be
the voice of the revolutionary democracy it must not sit with
folded hands before the developing civil war, the result of
which may be a dangerous outburst of
counter-revolution&…. The possibility of a peaceful
outcome lies in the formation of a united democratic
authority&…. We must elect a delegation to negotiate with
the other Socialist parties and organisation&….

Always the methodical muffled boom of cannon through the
windows, and the delegates, screaming at each other&…. So,
with the crash of artillery, in the dark, with hatred, and fear,
and reckless daring, new Russia was being born.

The Left Socialist Revolutionaries and the United Social
Democrats supported Martov’s proposition. It was
accepted. A soldier announced that the All-Russian
Peasants’ Soviets had refused to send delegates to the
Congress; he proposed that a committee be sent with a formal
invitation. “Some delegates are present,” he
said. “I move that they be given votes.” Accepted.

Kharash, wearing the epaulets of a captain, passionately
demanded the floor. “The political hypocrites who control
this Congress,” he shouted, “told us we were to
settle the question of Power—and it is being settled
behind our backs, before the Congress opens! Blows are being
struck against the Winter Palace, and it is by such blows that
the nails are being driven into the coffin of the political
party which has risked such an adventure!”
Uproar. Followed him Gharra: “While we are here discussing
propositions of peace, there is a battle on in the
streets&…. The Socialist Revolutionaries and the
Mensheviki refuse to be involved in what is happening, and call
upon all public forces to resist the attempt to capture the
power&….” Kutchin, delegate of the 12th Army and
representative of the Troudoviki: “I was sent here only
for information, and I am returning at once to the Front, where
all the Army Committees consider that the taking of power by the
Soviets, only three weeks before the Constituent Assembly, is a
stab in the back of the Army and a crime against the
people—!” Shouts of “Lie! You
lie!”— When he could be heard again,
“Let’s make an end of this adventure in Petrograd! I
call upon all delegates to leave this hall in order to save the
country and the Revolution!” As he went down the aisle in
the midst of a deafening noise, people surged in upon him,
threatening&…. Then Khintchuk, an officer with a long
brown goatee, speaking suavely and persuasively: “I speak
for the delegates from the Front. The Army is imperfectly
represented in this Congress, and furthermore, the Army does not
consider the Congress of Soviets necessary at this time, only
three weeks before the opening of the Constituent—”
shouts and stamping, always growing more violent. “The
Army does not consider that the Congress of Soviets has the
necessary authority—” Soldiers began to stand up all
over the hall.

“Who are you speaking for? What do you represent?” they cried.

“The Central Executive Committee of the Soviet of the
Fifth Army, the Second F— regiment, the First N—
Regiment, the Third S— Rifles&….”

“When were you elected? You represent the officers, not
the soldiers! What do the soldiers say about it?” Jeers
and hoots.

“We, the Front group, disclaim all responsibility for what
has happened and is happening, and we consider it necessary to
mobilise all self-conscious revolutionary forces for the
salvation of the Revolution! The Front group will leave the
Congress&…. The place to fight is out on the
streets!”

Immense bawling outcry. “You speak for the Staff—not for the Army!”

“I appeal to all reasonable soldiers to leave this Congress!”

“Kornilovitz! Counter-revolutionist! Provocator!” were hurled at him.

On behalf of the Mensheviki, Khintchuk then announced that the
only possibility of a peaceful solution was to begin
negotiations with the Provisional Government for the formation
of a new Cabinet, which would find support in all strata of
society. He could not proceed for several minutes. Raising his
voice to a shout he read the Menshevik declaration:

“Because the Bolsheviki have made a military conspiracy
with the aid of the Petrograd Soviet, without consulting the
other factions and parties, we find it impossible to remain in
the Congress, and therefore withdraw, inviting the other groups
to follow us and to meet for discussion of the situation!”

“Deserter!” At intervals in the almost continuous
disturbance Hendelman, for the Socialist Revolutionaries, could
be heard protesting against the bombardment of the Winter
Palace&…. “We are opposed to this kind of
anarchy&….”

Scarcely had he stepped down than a young, lean-faced soldier,
with flashing eyes, leaped to the platform, and dramatically
lifted his hand:

“Comrades!” he cried and there was a hush. “My
familia (name) is Peterson—I speak for the Second
Lettish Rifles. You have heard the statements of two
representatives of the Army committees; these statements would
have some value if their authors had been representatives of
the Army—” Wild applause. “But they
do not represent the soldiers!” Shaking his
fist. “The Twelfth Army has been insisting for a long time
upon the re-election of the Great Soviet and the Army Committee,
but just as your own Tsay-ee-kah, our Committee refused
to call a meeting of the representatives of the masses until the
end of September, so that the reactionaries could elect their
own false delegates to this Congress. I tell you now, the
Lettish soldiers have many times said, No more
resolutions! No more talk! We want deeds—the Power must be
in our hands!’ Let these impostor delegates leave the
Congress! The Army is not with them!”

The hall rocked with cheering. In the first moments of the
session, stunned by the rapidity of events, startled by the
sound of cannon, the delegates had hesitated. For an hour
hammer-blow after hammer-blow had fallen from that tribune,
welding them together but beating them down. Did they stand then
alone? Was Russia rising against them? Was it true that the Army
was marching on Petrograd? Then this clear-eyed young soldier
had spoken, and in a flash they knew it for the
truth&…. This was the voice of the
soldiers—the stirring millions of uniformed workers and
peasants were men like them, and their thoughts and feelings
were the same—

More soldiers — Gzhelshakh; for the Front delegates,
announcing that they had only decided to leave the Congress by a
small majority, and that the Bolshevik members had not even
taken part in the vote, as they stood for division
according to political parties, and not groups. “Hundreds
of delegates from the Front,” he said, “are being
elected without the participation of the soldiers because the
Army Committees are no longer the real representatives of the
rank and file&….” Lukianov, crying that officers
like Kharash and Khintchuk could not represent the Army in this
congress,—but only the high command. “The real
inhabitants of the trenches want with all their hearts the
transfer of Power into the hands of the Soviets, and they expect
very much from it!”— The tide was turning.

Then came Abramovitch, for the Bund, the organ of the
Jewish Social Democrats—his eyes snapping behind thick
glasses, trembling with rage.

“What is taking place now in Petrograd is a monstrous
calamity! The Bund group joins with the declaration of
the Mensheviki and Socialist Revolutionaries and will leave the
Congress!” He raised his voice and hand. “Our duty
to the Russian proletariat doesn’t permit us to remain
here and be responsible for these crimes. Because the firing on
the Winter Palace doesn’t cease, the Municipal Duma
together with the Mensheviki and Socialist Revolutionaries, and
the Executive Committee of the Peasants’ Soviet, has
decided to perish with the Provisional Government, and we are
going with them! Unarmed we will expose our breasts to the
machine guns of the Terrorists&…. We invite all delegates
to this Congress—” The rest was lost in a storm of
hoots, menaces and curses which rose to a hellish pitch as fifty
delegates got up and pushed their way out&….

Kameniev jangled the bell, shouting, “Keep your seats and
we’ll go on with our business!” And Trotzky,
standing up with a pale, cruel face, letting out his rich voice
in cool contempt, “All these so-called Socialist
compromisers, these frightened Mensheviki, Socialist
Revolutionaries, Bund—let them go! They are just
so much refuse which will be swept into the garbage-heap of
history!”

Riazanov, for the Bolsheviki, stated that at the request of the
City Duma the Military Revolutionary Committee had sent a
delegation to offer negotiations to the Winter Palace. “In
this way we have done everything possible to avoid
blood-shed&….”

We hurried from the place, stopping for a moment at the room
where the Military Revolutionary Committee worked at furious
speed, engulfing and spitting out panting couriers, despatching
Commissars armed with power of life and death to all the corners
of the city, amid the buzz of the telephonographs. The door
opened, a blast of stale air and cigarette smoke rushed out, we
caught a glimpse of dishevelled men bending over a map under the
glare of a shaded electric-light&…. Comrade
Josephov-Dukhvinski, a smiling youth with a mop of pale yellow
hair, made out passes for us.

When we came into the chill night, all the front of Smolny was
one huge park of arriving and departing automobiles, above the
sound of which could be heard the far-off slow beat of the
cannon. A great motor-truck stood there, shaking to the roar of
its engine. Men were tossing bundles into it, and others
receiving them, with guns beside them.

“Where are you going?” I shouted.

“Down-town—all over—everywhere!”
answered a little workman, grinning, with a large exultant
gesture.

We showed our passes. “Come along!” they
invited. “But there’ll probably be
shooting—” We climbed in; the clutch slid home with
a raking jar, the great car jerked forward, we all toppled
backward on top of those who were climbing in; past the huge
fire by the gate, and then the fire by the outer gate, glowing
red on the faces of the workmen with rifles who squatted around
it, and went bumping at top speed down the Suvorovsky Prospect,
swaying from side to side&…. One man tore the wrapping
from a bundle and began to hurl handfuls of papers into the
air. We imitated him, plunging down through the dark street with
a tail of white papers floating and eddying out behind. The late
passerby stooped to pick them up; the patrols around bonfires on
the corners ran out with uplifted arms to catch them. Sometimes
armed men loomed up ahead, crying “Shtoi!”
and raising their guns, but our chauffeur only yelled something
unintelligible and we hurtled on&….

I picked up a copy of the paper, and under a fleeting street-light read:

TO THE CITIZENS OF RUSSIA!

The Provisional Government is deposed. The State Power has
passed into the hands of the organ of the Petrograd Soviet of
Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies, the Military
Revolutionary Committee, which stands at the head of the
Petrograd proletariat and garrison.

The cause for which the people were fighting: immediate proposal
of a democratic peace, abolition of landlord property-rights
over the land, labor control over production, creation of a
Soviet Government—that cause is securely achieved.

LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION OF WORKMEN, SOLDIERS AND PEASANTS!

Military Revolutionary Committee

Petrograd Soviet of Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies.

Proclamation of the Fall of the Provisional
Government issued by the Military Revolutionary Committee on the
night of November 7th (our calendar), which we helped to
distribute from a motor-truck just after the surrender of the
Winter Palace.

A slant-eyed, Mongolian-faced man who sat beside me, dressed in
a goat-skin Caucasian cape, snapped, “Look out! Here the
provocators always shoot from the windows!” We turned into
Znamensky Square, dark and almost deserted, careened around
Trubetskoy’s brutal statue and swung down the wide Nevsky,
three men standing up with rifles ready, peering at the
windows. Behind us the street was alive with people running and
stooping. We could no longer hear the cannon, and the nearer we
drew to the Winter Palace end of the city the quieter and more
deserted were the streets. The City Duma was all brightly
lighted. Beyond that we made out a dark mass of people, and a
line of sailors, who yelled furiously at us to stop. The machine
slowed down, and we climbed out.

It was an astonishing scene. Just at the corner of the Ekaterina
Canal, under an arc-light, a cordon of armed sailors was drawn
across the Nevsky, blocking the way to a crowd of people in
column of fours. There were about three or four hundred of them,
men in frock coats, well-dressed women, officers—all sorts
and conditions of people. Among them we recognised many of the
delegates from the Congress, leaders of the Mensheviki and
Socialist Revolutionaries; Avksentiev, the lean, red-bearded
president of the Peasants’ Soviets, Sarokin,
Kerensky’s spokesman, Khintchuk, Abramovitch; and at the
head white-bearded old Schreider, Mayor of Petrograd, and
Prokopovitch, Minister of Supplies in the Provisional
Government, arrested that morning and released. I caught sight
of Malkin, reporter for the Russian Daily News.
“Going to die in the Winter Palace,” he shouted
cheerfully. The procession stood still, but from the front of it
came loud argument. Schreider and Prokopovitch were bellowing at
the big sailor who seemed in command.

“We demand to pass!” they cried. “See, these
comrades come from the Congress of Soviets! Look at their
tickets! We are going to the Winter Palace!”

The sailor was plainly puzzled. He scratched his head with an
enormous hand, frowning. “I have orders from the Committee
not to let anybody go to the Winter Palace,” he
grumbled. “But I will send a comrade to telephone to
Smolny&….”

“We Insist upon passing! We are unarmed! We will march on whether you permit us or not!” cried old Schreider, very much excited.

“I have orders—” repeated the sailor sullenly.

“Shoot us if you want to! We will pass! Forward!”
came from all sides. “We are ready to die, if you have the
heart to fire on Russians and comrades! We bare our breasts to
your guns!”

“No,” said the sailor, looking stubborn, “I can’t allow you to pass.”

“What will you do if we go forward? Will you shoot?”

“No, I’m not going to shoot people who haven’t
any guns. We won’t shoot unarmed Russian
people&….”

“We will go forward! What can you do?”

“We will do something,”replied the sailor, evidently
at a loss. “We can’t let you pass. We will do
something.”

“What will you do? What will you do?”

Another sailor came up, very much irritated. “We will
spank you!” he cried, energetically. “And if
necessary we will shoot you too. Go home now, and leave us in
peace!”

At this there was a great clamour of anger and resentment,
Prokopovitch had mounted some sort of box, and, waving his
umbrella, he made a speech:

“Comrades and citizens!” he said. “Force is
being used against us! We cannot have our innocent blood upon
the hands of these ignorant men! It is beneath our dignity to be
shot down here in the street by switchmen—” (What he
meant by “switchmen” I never discovered.) “Let
us return to the Duma and discuss the best means of saving the
country and the Revolution!”

Whereupon, in dignified silence, the procession marched around
and back up the Nevsky, always in column of fours. And taking
advantage of the diversion we slipped past the guards and set
off in the direction of the Winter Palace.

Here it was absolutely dark, and nothing moved but pickets of soldiers and Red Guards grimly intent. In front of the Kazan Cathedral a three-inch field-gun lay in the middle of the street, slewed sideways from the recoil of its last shot over the roofs. Soldiers were standing in every doorway talking in low tones and peering down toward the Police Bridge. I heard one voice saying: “It is possible that we have done wrong&….” At the corners patrols stopped all passersby—and the composition of these patrols was interesting, for in command of the regular troops was invariably a Red Guard&…. The shooting had ceased.

Just as we came to the Morskaya somebody was shouting:
“The yunkers have sent word they want us to go
and get them out!” Voices began to give commands, and in
the thick gloom we made out a dark mass moving forward, silent
but for the shuffle of feet and the clinking of arms. We fell in
with the first ranks.

Like a black river, filling all the street, without song or
cheer we poured through the Red Arch, where the man just ahead
of me said in a low voice: “Look out, comrades!
Don’t trust them. They will fire, surely!” In the
open we began to run, stooping low and bunching together, and
jammed up suddenly behind the pedestal of the Alexander Column.

“How many of you did they kill?” I asked.

“I don’t know. About ten&….”

After a few minutes huddling there, some hundreds of men, the
army seemed reassured and without any orders suddenly began
again to flow forward. By this time, in the light that streamed
out of all the Winter Palace windows, I could see that the first
two or three hundred men were Red Guards, with only a few
scattered soldiers. Over the barricade of firewood we clambered,
and leaping down inside gave a triumphant shout as we stumbled
on a heap of rifles thrown down by the yunkers who had
stood there. On both sides of the main gateway the doors stood
wide open, light streamed out, and from the huge pile came not
the slightest sound.

Carried along by the eager wave of men we were swept into the
right hand entrance, opening into a great bare vaulted room, the
cellar of the East wing, from which issued a maze of corridors
and stair-cases. A number of huge packing cases stood about, and
upon these the Red Guards and soldiers fell furiously, battering
them open with the butts of their rifles, and pulling out
carpets, curtains, linen, porcelain plates,
glassware&…. One man went strutting around with a bronze
clock perched on his shoulder; another found a plume of ostrich
feathers, which he stuck in his hat. The looting was just
beginning when somebody cried, “Comrades! Don’t
touch anything! Don’t take anything! This is the property
of the People!” Immediately twenty voices were crying,
“Stop! Put everything back! Don’t take anything!
Property of the People!” Many hands dragged the spoilers
down. Damask and tapestry were snatched from the arms of those
who had them; two men took away the bronze clock. Roughly and
hastily the things were crammed back in their cases, and
self-appointed sentinels stood guard. It was all utterly
spontaneous. Through corridors and up stair-cases the cry could
be heard growing fainter and fainter in the distance,
“Revolutionary discipline! Property of the
People&….”

We crossed back over to the left entrance, in the West
wing. There order was also being established. “Clear the
Palace!” bawled a Red Guard, sticking his head through an
inner door. “Come, comrades, let’s show that
we’re not thieves and bandits. Everybody out of the Palace
except the Commissars, until we get sentries posted.”

Two Red Guards, a soldier and an officer, stood with revolvers
in their hands. Another soldier sat at a table behind them, with
pen and paper. Shouts of “All out! All out!” were
heard far and near within, and the Army began to pour through
the door, jostling, expostulating, arguing. As each man appeared
he was seized by the self-appointed committee, who went through
his pockets and looked under his coat. Everything that was
plainly not his property was taken away, the man at the table
noted it on his paper, and it was carried into a little
room. The most amazing assortment of objects were thus
confiscated; statuettes, bottles of ink, bed-spreads worked with
the Imperial monogram, candles, a small oil-painting, desk
blotters, gold-handled swords, cakes of soap, clothes of every
description, blankets. One Red Guard carried three rifles, two
of which he had taken away from yunkers; another had
four portfolios bulging with written documents. The culprits
either sullenly surrendered or pleaded like children. All
talking at once the committee explained that stealing was not
worthy of the people’s champions; often those who had been
caught turned around and began to help go through the rest of
the comrades.[3]

Yunkers came out, in bunches of three or four. The
committee seized upon them with an excess of zeal, accompanying
the search with remarks like, “Ah, Provocators!
Kornilovists! Counter-revolutionists! Murderers of the
People!” But there was no violence done, although the
yunkers were terrified. They too had their pockets full
of small plunder. It was carefully noted down by the scribe, and
piled in the little room&…. The yunkers were
disarmed. “Now, will you take up arms against the People
any more?” demanded clamouring voices.

“No,” answered the yunkers, one by one. Whereupon they were allowed to go free.

We asked if we might go inside. The committee was doubtful, but
the big Red Guard answered firmly that it was
forbidden. “Who are you anyway?” he
asked. “How do I know that you are not all Kerenskys?
(There were five of us, two women.)

“Pazhal’st’, touarishtchi! Way,
Comrades!” A soldier and a Red Guard appeared in the door,
waving the crowd aside, and other guards with fixed
bayonets. After them followed single file half a dozen men in
civilian dress—the members of the Provisional
Government. First came Kishkin, his face drawn and pale, then
Rutenberg, looking sullenly at the floor; Terestchenko was next,
glancing sharply around; he stared at us with cold
fixity&…. They passed in silence; the victorious
insurrectionists crowded to see, but there were only a few angry
mutterings. It was only later that we learned how the people in
the street wanted to lynch them, and shots were fired—but
the sailors brought them safely to Peter-Paul&….

In the meanwhile unrebuked we walked into the Palace. There was
still a great deal of coming and going, of exploring new-found
apartments in the vast edifice, of searching for hidden
garrisons of yunkers which did not exist. We went
upstairs and wandered through room after room. This part of the
Palace had been entered also by other detachments from the side
of the Neva. The paintings, statues, tapestries and rugs of the
great state apartments were unharmed; in the offices, however,
every desk and cabinet had been ransacked, the papers scattered
over the floor, and in the living rooms beds had been stripped
of their coverings and ward-robes wrenched open. The most highly
prized loot was clothing, which the working people needed. In a
room where furniture was stored we came upon two soldiers
ripping the elaborate Spanish leather upholstery from
chairs. They explained it was to make boots with&….

The old Palace servants in their blue and red and gold uniforms
stood nervously about, from force of habit repeating, “You
can’t go in there, barin! It is
forbidden—” We penetrated at length to the gold and
malachite chamber with crimson brocade hangings where the
Ministers had been in session all that day and night, and where
the shveitzari had betrayed them to the Red Guards. The
long table covered with green baize was just as they had left
it, under arrest. Before each empty seat was pen and ink and
paper; the papers were scribbled over with beginnings of plans
of action, rough drafts of proclamations and manifestos. Most of
these were scratched out, as their futility became evident, and
the rest of the sheet covered with absent-minded geometrical
designs, as the writers sat despondently listening while
Minister after Minister proposed chimerical schemes. I took one
of these scribbled pages, in the hand writing of Konovalov,
which read, “The Provisional Government appeals to all
classes to support the Provisional Government—”

All this time, it must be remembered, although the Winter Palace
was surrounded, the Government was in constant communication
with the Front and with provincial Russia. The Bolsheviki had
captured the Ministry of War early in the morning, but they did
not know of the military telegraph office in the attic, nor of
the private telephone line connecting it with the Winter
Palace. In that attic a young officer sat all day, pouring out
over the country a flood of appeals and proclamations; and when
he heard that the Palace had fallen, put on his hat and walked
calmly out of the building&….

Interested as we were, for a considerable time we didn’t
notice a change in the attitude of the soldiers and Red Guards
around us. As we strolled from room to room a small group
followed us, until by the time we reached the great
picture-gallery where we had spent the afternoon with the
yunkers, about a hundred men surged in after us. One
giant of a soldier stood in our path, his face dark with sullen
suspicion.

“Who are you?” he growled. “What are you doing
here?” The others massed slowly around, staring and
beginning to mutter. “Provocatori!” I heard
somebody say. “Looters!”

Fascmile of the beginning of a proclamation, written in pencil by A. I. Konovalov, Minister of Commerce and Industry in the Provisional Government, and then scratched out as the hopeless of the situation became more and more evident. The geometrical figure beneath was probably idly drawn while the Ministers were waiting for the end.

I produced our passes from the Military Revolutionary Committee. The soldier took them gingerly, turned them upside down and looked at them without comprehension. Evidently he could not read. He handed them back and spat on the floor. “Bumagi! Papers!” said he with contempt. The mass slowly began to close in, like wild cattle around a cowpuncher on foot. Over their heads I caught sight of an officer, looking helpless, and shouted to him. He made for us, shouldering his way through.

“I’m the Commissar,” he said to me. “Who
are you? What is it?” The others held back, waiting. I
produced the papers.

“You are foreigners?” he rapidly asked in
Franch. “It is very dangerous&….” Then he
turned to the mob, holding up our
documents. “Comrades!” he cried. “These people
are foreign comrades—from America. They have come here to
be able to tell their countrymen about the bravery and the
revolutionary discipline of the proletarian army!”

“How do you know that?” replied the big
soldier. “I tell you they are provocators! They say they
came here to observe the revolutionary discipline of the
proletarian army, but they have been wandering freely through
the Palace, and how do we know they haven’t got their
pockets full of loot?”

“Pravilno!” snarled the others, pressing forward.

“Comrades! Comrades!” appealed the officer, sweat
standing out on his forehead. “I am Commissar of the
Military Revolutionary Committee. Do you trust me? Well, I tell
you that these passes are signed with the same names that are
signed to my pass!”

He led us down through the Palace and out through a door opening
onto the Neva quay, before which stood the usual committee going
through pockets— “You have narrowly escaped,”
he kept muttering, wiping his face.

“What happened to the Women’s Battalion?” we asked.

“Oh—the women!” He laughed. “They were all huddled up in a back room. We had a terrible time deciding what to do with them—many were in hysterics, and so on. So finally we marched them up to the Finland Station and put them on a train for Levashovo, where they have a camp.&…[4]

We came out into the cold, nervous night, murmurous with obscure
armies on the move, electric with patrols. From across the
river, where loomed the darker mass of Peter-Paul, came a hoarse
shout&…. Underfoot the sidewalk was littered with broken
stucco, from the cornice of the Palace where two shells from the
battleship Avrora had struck; that was the only damage
done by the bombardment&….

It was now after three in the morning. On the Nevsky all the
street-lights were again shining, the cannon gone, and the only
signs of war were Red Guards and soldiers squatting around
fires. The city was quiet—probably never so quiet in its
history; on that night not a single hold-up occurred, not a
single robbery.

But the City Duma Building was all illuminated. We mounted to
the galleried Alexander Hall, hung with its great, gold-framed,
red-shrouded Imperial portraits. About a hundred people were
grouped around the platform, where Skobeliev was speaking. He
urged that the Committee of Public Safety be expanded, so as to
unite all the anti-Bolshevik elements in one huge organisation,
to be called the Committee for Salvation of Country and
Revolution. And as we looked on, the Committee for Salvation was
formed—that Committee which was to develop into the most
powerful enemy of the Bolsheviki, appearing, in the next week,
sometimes under its own partisan name, and sometimes as the
strictly non-partisan Committee of Public Safety&….

Dan, Gotz, Avkesntiev were there, some of the insurgent Soviet
delegates, members of the Executive Committee of the
Peasants’ Soviets, old Prokopovitch, and even members of
the Council of the Republic—among whom Vinaver and other
Cadets. Lieber cried that the convention of Soviets was not a
legal convention, that the old Tsay-ee-kah was still in
office&…. An appeal to the country was drafted.

We hailed a cab. “Where to?” But when we said
“Smolny,” the izvoshtchik shook his
head. “Niet!” said he, “there are
devils&….” It was only after weary wandering that we
found a driver willing to take us—and he wanted thirty
rubles, and stopped two blocks away.

The windows of Smolny were still ablaze, motors came and went,
and around the still-leaping fires the sentries huddled close,
eagerly asking everybody the latest news. The corridors were
full of hurrying men, hollow-eyed and dirty. In some of the
committee-rooms people lay sleeping on the floor, their guns
beside them. In spite of the seceding delegates, the hall of
meetings was crowded with people, roaring like the sea. As we
came in, Kameniev was reading the list of arrested
Ministers. The name of Terestchenko was greeted with thunderous
applause, shouts of satisfaction, laughter; Rutenburg came in
for less; and at the mention of Paltchinsky, a storm of hoots,
angry cries, cheers burst forth&…. It was announced that
Tchudnovsky had been appointed Commissar of the Winter Palace.

Now occurred a dramatic interruption. A big peasant, his bearded
face convulsed with rage, mounted the platform and pounded with
his fist on the presidium table.

“We, Socialist Revolutionaries, insist upon the immediate
release of the Socialist Ministers arrested in the Winter
Palace! Comrades! Do you know that four comrades who risked
their lives and their freedom fighting against tyranny of the
Tsar, have been flung into Peter-Paul prison—the
historical tomb of Liberty?” In the uproar he pounded and
yelled. Another delegate climbed up beside him, and pointed at
the presidium.

“Are the representatives of the revolutionary masses going to sit quietly here while the Okhrana of the Bolsheviki tortures their leaders?”

Trotzky was gesturing for silence. “These
comrades’ who are now caught plotting the crushing
of the Soviets with the adventurer Kerensky—is there any
reason to handle them with gloves? After July 16th and 18th they
didn’t use much ceremony with us!” With a triumphant
ring in his voice he cried, “Now that the
oborontsi and the faint-hearted have gone, and the
whole task of defending and saving the Revolution rests on our
shoulders, it is particularly necessary to
work—work—work! We have decided to die rather than
give up!”

Followed him a Commissar from Tsarskoye Selo, panting and
covered with the mud of his ride. “The garrison of
Tsarskoye Selo is on guard at the gates of Petrograd, ready to
defend the Soviets and the Military Revolutionary
Committee!” Wild cheers. “The Cycle Corps sent from
the front has arrived at Tsarskoye, and the soldiers are now
with us; they recognise the power of the Soviets, the necessity
of immediate transfer of land to the peasants and industrial
control to the workers. The Fifth Battalion of Cyclists,
stationed at Tsarskoye, is ours&….

Then the delegate of the Third Cycle Battalion. In the midst of
delirious enthusiasm he told how the cycle corps had been
ordered three days before from the South-west front to
the “defence of Petrograd.” They suspected, however,
the meaning of the order; and at the station of Peredolsk were
met by representatives of the Fifth Battalion from Tsarskoye. A
joint meeting was held, and it was discovered that “among
the cyclists not a single man was found willing to shed the
blood of his brothers, or to support a Government of bourgeois
and land-owners!”

Kapelinski, for the Mensheviki Internationalists, proposed to
elect a special committee to find a peaceful solution to the
civil war. “There isn’t any peaceful
solution!” bellowed the crowed. “Victory is the only
solution!” The vote was overwhelmingly against, and the
Mensheviki Internationalists left the Congress in a Whirlwind of
Jocular insults. There was no longer any panic
fear&…. Kameniev from the platform shouted after them,
“The Mensheviki Internationalists claimed
emergency’ for the question of a peaceful
solution,’ but they always voted for suspension of the
order of the day in favour of declarations of factions which
wanted to leave the Congress. It is evident,” finished
Kameniev, “that the withdrawal of all these renegades was
decided upon beforehand!”

The assembly decided to ignore the withdrawal of the factions,
and proceed to the appeal to the workers, soldiers and peasants
of all Russia:

To Workers, Soldiers And Peasants

The Second All-Russian Congress of Soviets of Workers’ and
Soldiers’ Deputies has opened. It represents the great
majority of the Soviets. There are also a number of Peasant
deputies. Based upon the will of the great majority of the
workers’, soldiers and peasants, based upon the triumphant
uprising of the Petrograd workmen and soldiers, the Congress
assumes the Power.

The Provisional Government is deposed. Most of the members of
the Provisional Government are already arrested.

The Soviet authority will at once propose an immediate
democratic peace to all nations, and an immediate truce on all
fronts. It will assure the free transfer of landlord, crown and
monastery lands to the Land Committees, defend the soldiers
rights, enforcing a complete democratisation of the Army,
establish workers’ control over production, ensure the
convocation of the Constituent Assembly at the proper date, take
means to supply bread to the cities and articles of first
necessity to the villages, and secure to all nationalities
living in Russia a real right to independent existence.

The Congress resolves: that all local power shall be transferred
to the Soviets of Workers,’ Soldiers’ and
Peasants’ Deputies, which must enforce revolutionary
order.

The Congress calls upon the soldiers in the trenches to be
watchful and steadfast. The Congress of Soviets is sure that the
revolutionary Army will know how to defend the Revolution
against all attacks of Imperialism, until the new Government
shall have brought about the conclusion of the democratic peace
which it will directly propose to all nations. The new
Government will take all necessary steps to secure everything
needful to the revolutionary Army, by means of a determined
policy of requisition and taxation of the propertied classes,
and also to improve the situation of soldiers’ families.

The Kornilovitz—Kerensky, Kaledin and others, are
endeavouring to lead troops against Petrograd. Several
regiments, deceived by Kerensky, have sided with the insurgent
People.

Soldiers! Make active resistance to the Kornilovitz—Kerensky! Be on guard!

Railway men! Stop all troop-trains being sent by Kerensky against Petrograd!

Soldiers, Workers, Clerical employees! The destiny of the
Revolution and democratic peace is in your hands!

Long live the Revolution!

The All-Russian Congress of Soviets of
Workers’ and Soldiers’ Deputies.Delegates from the Peasants’ Soviets.

It was exactly 5:17 A.M. when Krylenko, staggering with fatigue,
climbed to the tribune with a telegram in his hand.

“Comrades! From the Northern Front. The Twelfth Army sends
greetings to the Congress of Soviets, announcing the formation
of a Military Revolutionary Committee which has taken over the
command of the Northern Front!” Pandemonium, men weeping,
embracing each other. “General Tchermissov has recognised
the Committee—Commissar of the Provisional Government
Voitinsky has resigned!”

So. Lenin and the Petrograd workers had decided on insurrection,
the Petrograd Soviet had overthrown the Provisional Government,
and thrust the coup d’etat upon the Congress of
Soviets. Now there was all great Russia to win—and then
the world! Would Russia follow and rise? And the
world—what of it? Would the peoples answer and rise, a red
world-tide?

Although it was six in the morning, night was yet heavy and
chill. There was only a faint unearthly pallor stealing over the
silent streets, dimming the watch-fires, the shadow of a
terrible dawn grey-rising over Russia&….

Footnotes

[1]Events Of November 7th From 4 A. M. until dawn Kerensky
remained at the Petrograd Staff Headquarters, sending orders to
the Cossacks and to the yunkers in the Officers’
Schools in and around Petrograd—all of whom answered that
they were unable to move.

Colonel Polkovnikov, Commandant of the City,
hurried between the Staff and the Winter Palace, evidently without
any plan. Kerensky gave an order to open the bridges; three hours
passed without any action, and then an officer and five men went
out on their own initiative, and putting to flight a picket of Red
Guards, opened the Nicolai Bridge. Immediately after they left,
however, some sailors closed it again.

Kerensky ordered the print-shop of Rabotchi
Put to be occupied. The officer detailed to the work was
promised a squad of soldiers; two hours later he was promised some
yunkers; then the order was forgotten.

An attempt was made to recapture the Post Office
and the Telegraph Agency; a few shots were fired, and the
Government troops announced that they would no longer oppose the
Soviets.

To a delegation of yunkers Kerensky said,
“As chief of the Provisional Government and as Supreme
Commander I know nothing, I cannot advise you; but as a veteran
revolutionist, I appeal to you, young revolutionists, to remain at
your posts and defend the conquests of the Revolution.”

Orders of Kishkin, November 7th:

“By decree of the Provisional
Government…. I am invested with extraordinary powers for the
reestablishment of order in Petrograd, in complete command of all
civil and military authorities….”

“In accordance with the powers conferred
upon me by the Provisional Government, I herewith relieve from his
functions as Commandant of the Petrograd Military District Colonel
George Polkovnikov….”

Appeal to the Population signed by Vice-Premier Konovalov, November 7th:

“Citizens! Save the fatherland, the republic
and your freedom. Maniacs have raised a revolt against the only
governmental power chosen by the people, the Provisional
Government….

“The members of the Provisional Government
fulfil their duty, remain at their post, and continue to work for
the good of the fatherland, the reestablishment of order, and the
convocation of the Constituent Assembly, future sovereign of
Russia and of all the Russian peoples….

“Citizens, you must support the Provisional
Government. You must strengthen its authority. You must oppose
these maniacs, with whom are joined all enemies of liberty and
order, and the followers of the Tsarist ré#233;gime, in
order to wreck the Constituent Assembly, destroy the conquests of
the Revolution, and the future of our dear fatherland….

“Citizens! Organise around the Provisional
Government for the defence of its temporary authority, in the name
of order and the happiness of all peoples….”

Proclamation of the Provisional Government.

“The Petrograd Soviet…. has declared
the Provisional Government overthrown, and has demanded that the
Governmental power be turned over to it, under threat of
bombarding the Winter Palace with the cannon of Peter-Paul
Fortress, and of the cruiser Avrora, anchored in the
Neva.

“The Government can surrender its authority
only to the Consituent Assembly; for that reason it has decided
not to submit, and to demand aid from the population and the
Army. A telegram has been sent to the Stavka; and an
answer received says that a strong detachment of troops is being
sent….

“Let the Army and the People reject the
irresponsible attempts of the Bolsheviki to create a revolt in the
rear….”

About 9 A. M. Kerensky left for the Front….

Toward evening two soldiers on bicycles presented
themselves at the Staff Headquarters, as delegates of the garrison
of Peter-Paul Fortress. Entering the meeting-room of the Staff,
where Kishkin, Rutenburg, Paltchinski, General Bagratouni, Colonel
Paradielov and Count Tolstoy were gathered, they demanded the
immediate surrender of the Staff; threatening, in case of refusal,
to bombard headquarters…. After two panicky conferences the
Staff retreated to the Winter Palace, and the headquarters were
occupied by Red Guards….

Late in the afternoon several Bolshevik armoured
cars cruised around the Palace Square, and Soviet soldiers tried
unsuccessfully to parley with the yunkers….

Firing on the Palace began about 7 o’clock in the evening….

At 10 P. M. began an artillery bombardment from
three sides, in which most of the shells were blanks, only three
small shrapnels striking the facade of the Palace….

[2]Kerensky In Flight Leaving
Petrograd in the morning of November 7th, Kerensky arrived by
automobile at Gatchina, where he demanded a special
train. Toward evening he was in Ostrov, Province of Pskov. The
next morning, extraordinary session of the local Soviet of
Workers’ and Soldiers’ Depulies, with participation
of Cossack delegates—there being 6,000 Cossacks at
Ostrov.

Kerensky spoke to the assembly, appealing for aid
against the Bolsheviki, and addressed himself almost exclusively
to the Cossacks. The soldier delegates protested.

“Why did you come here?” shouted
voices. Kerensky answered, “To ask the Cossacks’
assistance in crushing the Bolshevik insurrection!” At this
there were violent protestations, which increased when he
continued, “I broke the Kornilov attempt, and I will break
the Bolsheviki!” The noise became so great that he had to
leave the platform….

The soldier deputies and the Ussuri Cossacks
decided to arrest Kerensky, but the Don Cossacks prevented them,
and got him away by train…. A Military Revolutionary
Committee, set up during the day, tried to inform the garrison of
Pskov; but the telephone and telegraph lines were cut….

Kerensky did not arrive at Pskov. Revolutionary
soldiers had cut the railway line, to prevent troops being sent
against the capital. On the night of November 8th he arrived by
automobile at Luga, where he was well received by the Death
Battalions stationed there.

Next day he took train for the South-West Front,
and visited the Army Committee at headquarters. The Fifth Army,
however, was wild with enthusiasm over the news of the Bolshevik
success, and the Army Committee was unable to promise Kerensky any
support.

From there he went to the Stavka, at
Moghilev, where he ordered ten regiments from different parts of
the Front to move against Petrograd. The soldiers almost
unanimously refused; and those regiments which did start halted on
the way. About five thousand Cossacks finally followed
him….

[3]Looting Of The Winter Palace I
do not mean to maintain that there was no looting, in the Winter
Palace. Both after and before the Winter Palace fell,
there was considerable pilfering. The statement of the Socialist
Revolutionary paper Narod, and of members of the City
Duma, to the effect that precious objects to the value of
500,000,000 rubles had been stolen, was, however, a gross
exaggeration.

The most important art treasures of the
Palace—paintings, statues, tapestries, rare porcelains and
armorie,—had been transferred to Moscow during the month of
September; and they were still in good order in the basement of
the Imperial Palace there ten days after the capture of the
Kremlin by Bolshevik troops. I can personally testify to
this….

Individuals, however, especially the general
public, which was allowed to circulate freely through the Winter
Palace for several days after its capture, made away with table
silver, clocks, bedding, mirrors and some odd vases of valuable
porcelain and semi-precious stone, to the value of about
$50,000.

The Soviet Government immediately created a
special commission, composed of artists and archæologists,
to recover the stolen objects. On November 1st two proclamations
were issued:

“CITIZENS OF PETROGRAD!

“We urgently ask all citizens to exert every
effort to find whatever possible of the objects stolen from the
Winter Palace in the night of November 7-8, and to forward them to
the Commandant of the Winter Palace.

“Receivers of stolen goods, antiquarians,
and all who are proved to be hiding such objects will be held
legally responsible and punished with all severity.

“In the night of November 7-8, in the Winter
Palace, which is the inalienable property of the Russian people,
valuable objects of art were stolen.

“We urgently appeal to all to exert every
effort, so that the stolen objects are returned to the Winter
Palace.

“Commissars….
“G. Yatmanov, B. Mandelbaum.”

About half the loot was recovered, some of it in the baggage of foreigners leaving Russia.

A conference of artists and archæologists,
held at the suggestion of Smolny, appointed a commission of make
an inventory of the Winter Palace treasures, which was given
complete charge of the Palace and of all artistic collections and
State museums in Petrograd. On November 16th the Winter Palace was
closed to the public while the inventory was being
made….

During the last week in November a decree was
issued by the Council of People’s Commissars, changing the
name of the Winter Palace to “People’s Museum,”
entrusting it to the complete charge of the
artistic-archæological commission, and declaring that
henceforth all Governmental activities within its wall were
prohibited….

[4]Rape
Of The Women’s Battalion Immediately following the
taking of the Winter Palace all sorts of sensational stories
were published in the anti-Bolshevik press, and told in the City
Duma, about the fate of the Women’s Battalion defending
the Palace. It was said that some of the girl-soldiers had been
thrown from the windows into the street, most of the rest had
been violated, and many had committed suicide as a result of the
horrors they had gone through.

The City Duma appointed a commission to
investigate the matter. On November 16th the commission returned
from Levashovo, headquarters of the Women’s
Battalion. Madame Tyrkova reported that the girls had been at
first taken to the barracks of the Pavlovsky Regiment, and that
there some of them had been badly treated; but that at present
most of them were at Levashovo, and the rest scattered about the
city in private houses. Dr. Mandelbaum, another of the commission,
testified drily that none of the women had been thrown
out of the windows of the Winter Palace, that none were
wounded, that three had been violated, and that one had committed
suicide, leaving a note which said that she had been
“disappointed in her ideals.”

On November 21st the Military Revolutionary
Committee officially dissolved the Women’s Battalion, at the
request of the girls themselves, who returned to civilian
clothes.

In Louise Bryant’s book, “Six Red
Months in Russia,” there is an interesting description of
the girl-soldiers during this time.